


all this and heaven too

by skinnyties



Series: lover to lover [2]
Category: Suits (US TV)
Genre: M/M, Reunion, coming home, part 2! here she is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-06-18 13:08:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15486453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skinnyties/pseuds/skinnyties
Summary: Mike comes back to New York.





	all this and heaven too

**Author's Note:**

> sequel to heartlines.

The apartment at the near top of this particular upper-east side high rise is Mike’s favourite so far. Out of the four Manhattan rooms that he’d been shown, this is the first that gives him any sort of sense of a new beginning. The others had been too familiar a layout, the walls too similar a shade. All Mike really wanted was to feel like upon coming back to New York, something would be different this time.

His real estate agent is a small Hispanic woman, partial to floral dresses and not combing her hair. She’d helped him find the apartment for Grammy that he later shared with Rachel, as well as _apparently_ being the one to convince Harvey to settle down in his condo. Mike’s known her a while and is therefore comfortable negotiating with her.

“Look, Gloria, I have two more apartments to view today, but I have a feeling nothing’s gonna beat out this one. It’s just—twenty-five grand a month? Really?” he winces just from saying the price out loud. Mike knew renting was a different story to owning, that you save in different areas and he knew the advantages and disadvantages of both. Truthfully, Mike had opted for renting simply because it was a lot less hassle to get out of than owning if he decided coming back had been a mistake.

“I thought you were a bigshot lawyer, Mr. Ross,” she quips, continuing to walk slowly through the apartment to show it to him. Her short hair bounces as she walks, and Mike can’t help but think that if he didn’t like Gloria so much, he’d be heading for the door right about now.

“Not that type of lawyer anymore, I’m afraid.” Mike’s hands run up the white panels plated along the kitchen walls.

Gloria turns to face him, looking him up and down as if she’s making an appraisal. Eventually, she sighs, “seventeen grand. Lowest I’ll go.”

“Fifteen?” Mike cringes as he waits for her to tell him to shove it.

“You’re lucky I like those pretty blue eyes, Michael,” she smiles, “I tell you, though—you couldn’t always haggle. Mr. Specter taught you a thing or two, I see.”

Mike swallows. It’s the first time he’s heard anyone mention Harvey’s name since he even considered coming back to the city. He knew sooner or later, he’d have to face the music; he just hadn’t expected the opening act to be his realtor. “Yeah, he did.”

“What about that pretty brunette that used to live with you? Will she be moving back up to the city with you?” Gloria asks innocently as they walk back into the living room and she fluffs a pillow.

“Um, no, actually. That’s over. She’s in Seattle,” Mike replies, doing his best to keep his voice even.

Gloria gives him the onceover but doesn’t press it further, motioning for him to join her sitting at the coffee table. She pulls a few sheets of paper out of her bag and goes over the lease agreement with him. The offer’s good for twelve hours, she tells him, and urges Mike to go over everything properly before signing it. Mike folds the paper and puts it in his trusty messenger bag before bidding Gloria goodbye, and heading for the door.

_"Is that everything signed?” Mike asked, eyes rapidly skimming over the pages of their divorce papers one last time. He pushed the signed document back towards the middle of the table and just watches Rachel for a second, fiddling with the buttons on his suit jacket._

_“I believe so, yeah,” breathed his now ex-wife. She scribbled down her signature on all the necessary lines and popped the lid back on the pen. Refusing to meet his eye, she grabbed her bag from its position beside her feet and made a move to stand._

_Mike felt as though it was all ending too quickly, as though despite everything, Rachel deserved more than just a brief meeting in her council’s offices._

_“For what it’s worth,” Rachel looked up as he spoke, “I am sorry. About everything.”_

_“Don’t, Mike. Just don’t,” her lips quirked up bitterly, hands gripping her Gucci handbag tightly._

_“What do you want me to—”_

_“What I_ want _is for you to never have fallen in love with someone else. What I_ want _is for you to have had the sense to tell me before we vowed before God to be together forever. But—it’s too late now, isn’t it?” she sighed, “have a nice life, Mike.”_

_“Come on, it was just a kiss. That’s not the only reason for this,” Mike reasoned._

_"I think we both know that that isn’t true. Besides, if he hadn’t thrown you out that night, what do you think would’ve happened? What did you want to happen?”_

_Rachel’s enquiries had shut him up right then and there, because they both knew what was going through Mike’s mind when she asked him what he wanted from Harvey that night. It didn’t take Mike’s genius mind to figure out that if Harvey hadn’t pushed him away, hadn’t demanded he leave, it probably would’ve gone a lot further than some making out and heavy petting._ _The sound of Rachel slamming the door tore him away from his thoughts._

 

Mike considers for a minute cancelling all of his viewings for the rest of the day, but figures since Gloria had given him some time to confirm that he wanted the apartment, going to see one more wouldn’t hurt anyone. He checks his watch and notes that he has some time to kill before he has to get up to his next appointment.

As he steps out onto the city streets that he’d known his entire life, Mike takes a moment to decide what he’d missed the most when he was living in Seattle. Images of New York’s sometimes rampant night life flick through his mind, followed by the memory of the scent that would waft from the pizza box when he’d treat himself and order the really good stuff from Carpuccio’s, a little Italian pizzeria a couple of blocks away from Harvey’s apartment.

Thinking about Harvey and food makes him realise what he’s really missed the most—good coffee and even better bagels from the stand outside the firm.

Mike hollers for a cab and as he makes his way towards the building that he’d spent the better part of a decade working at, he stares out the window and watches all the spots that are so familiar to him pass by. He tries not to think about walking in the park with Rachel, or meeting dealers down the back alleys with Trevor, or rushing through the streets to make it to court on time. All Mike thinks as he passes these places is that coming back was definitely a good idea.

He smells the cart before he can properly see it through the crowds of people on the sidewalk. When he joins the line and eventually gets to the front, the vendor smiles at him knowingly as if to say, _where’ve you been, kid?_

Mike pays, giving a little bit extra for the consideration, and turns around as he thinks about what part of his favourite city on earth he’s going to revisit next. Only, when Mike bumps into a hard body as he twists and spills hot coffee down the both of them, all he can think is _ow, ow, ow._

“Jesus Christ, asshole, watch where you’re going.”

The second Mike hears the man’s voice, his heart plummets straight into his ass and he looks up, suddenly face to face with the man he’s spent the last two years trying to get off of his mind. It’s almost like time slows for a second and it’s just the two of them—even though Harvey isn’t even looking at him, preferring to watch black coffee soak into his twelve-thousand-dollar suit jacket. Mike says nothing, not sure what the hell he can say in that moment.

What he notices the second Harvey’s eyes meet his is that he looks older. As in, way older than what two years should do to you. There are wrinkles on his forehead and dark bags under his eyes that weren’t there the last time Mike saw him, and he silently (read: indulgently) wonders if there’s any way his absence had anything to do with them.

The look on Harvey’s face when his brain catches up makes him feel physically sick, and considering how smart he is, Mike can’t do anything to predict how this is going to go down. The older man’s eyes flick over his face quickly, and Mike can tell Harvey’s mind is racing just as fast as his.

“Hi.”

Mike isn’t prepared for how it feels to finally hear his voice for the first time in what feels like forever, so instead of just greeting him back like a normal fucking human being, he of course starts to babble.

“I’m so sorry about the coffee—I turned around way too fast and I didn’t even see you and—oh my god, your suit—”

“It’s fine, it’s completely fine. Hi,” Harvey says again. Mike can’t help but notice the faint smile on his lips and curses himself for not being anywhere near how composed Harvey is at this moment. Honestly, it worries him that Harvey’s managing to be calm at all.

“You said that already,” Mike notes, and hopes it doesn’t come across as snarky.

“Yeah, I’m saying it again,” a smile breaks out over Harvey’s face and Mike knows they’re alright.

For a moment, they’re both just standing there, taking each other in, not really sure what to say. Mike knows that Harvey’s all but staring, but he can’t really judge, because he’s not taken his eyes off Harvey since the second they banged into each other. He tries not to let everything overwhelm him, but his _fantastic_ brain feels the need to remind him that the last time he saw Harvey, they were rutting against each other like horny teenagers in Harvey’s apartment. A blush threatens to creep its way onto his face, but Mike forces it down and does what he can to keep his voice as level as possible.

“Hey, Harvey,” he speaks, just above a whisper.

“What are you doing in Manhattan?” asks Harvey, eyebrows furrowing.

“Uh, apartment hunting, actually,” Mike replies, heart skipping a few beats as he watches Harvey’s eyes widen slightly, and mentally scolds himself for labelling the look on Harvey’s face as something akin to hope.

The older man nodded, “you and Rachel moving back up here?” It’s Mike’s turn to look shocked as he cocks his head at Harvey questioningly.

“Just me, actually,” Mike says slowly, “that’s over, I assumed you’d heard?” He takes it from the taken-aback look on Harvey’s face that he knows nothing of the kind. How could he not know? The man works with Rachel’s father—not to mention Donna, who knows absolutely everything about everyone.

Harvey’s mouth hangs open a little, the edges quirked up ever so slightly, and Mike’s stomach jumps at the sight.

“Donna mentioned you were going through some stuff, but I didn't think— when?”

“Almost two years ago now, divorced eighteen months back,” Mike says, hardly noticing how for the first time since his divorce, talking about it didn’t make him feel that melancholic sense of loneliness.

“Six months after you left? That’s rough, I’m sorry,” Harvey’s trying to sound sympathetic, and Mike wonders how genuine it actually is. It’s not like he’d care if Harvey was lying through his back teeth, anyway.

“It just wasn’t working, you know,” Mike bats his hand slightly, as if to say it doesn’t matter. He peers down to check his watch and curses under his breath, “shit. I have to go and view an apartment across town in fifteen, but maybe we could—"

Harvey’s nodding before he can even finish his sentence, “yeah, yes. Absolutely. Tonight?”

“Tonight’s perfect.” A wide smile spreading onto his face, Mike nods right along with him. “You still have my number?”

“Of course.”

Mike can’t ignore how much it stings to hear Harvey confirm that he still had his number saved; not once when Mike was living in Seattle did he hear from the other man. He thinks back to all the times he’d rationalised it away when considering why Harvey hadn’t called— _maybe he’s lost my number, maybe he’s busy, maybe he’s waiting for me to call first._ Despite all of this, Mike knew deep down that Harvey wasn’t calling because of how things had been left between them. As they say their goodbyes for now, Mike thinks about how he felt as though he’d finally been given a chance to rectify that.

The next apartment he views isn’t anywhere as nice as the first, and when he finally decides that it’s not the place for him, he politely tells the realtor that, and heads out to the elevator. When Mike steps inside and presses to go down to the ground floor, he checks his phone.

His heart swells annoyingly when he sees he’s received a text from Harvey.

_(3:46pm) Almost forgot how much I missed you. Almost. My place, 8PM. Chinese or Indian? -H_

_(4:01pm) Surprise me. Missed you more._

_(4:01pm) Impossible._

When eight o'clock rolls around, Mike finds himself standing at the door of Harvey’s apartment hesitating to knock. His mind races when he thinks about the last time he was here, stomach turning as he remembers what it was like to have Harvey’s hands on him after longing for it for years. To this day, Mike had never had a kiss quite like that one, and he wasn’t sure he ever would again.

For a couple more minutes, he tries to calm himself down enough to just knock on the door, but as he brings his hand up, it swings open from the inside. Seeing Harvey dressed casually had always made him feel this unique sort of longing that he was never sure how to label, because it was never as though he stumbled upon Harvey in anything other than a suit by accident; every time Mike had seen him in the comfort of his apartment, all but lounging around in a Henley or a t-shirt, with a pair of loose fitting jeans, it was because Harvey had allowed him to. Harvey believed they were close enough that he had no problem dressing down in front of Mike.

“Hey, I thought I heard the elevator. Why didn’t you knock?” Harvey steps aside and ushers Mike into the apartment, closing the door behind him.

Making his way through the abode, Mike can’t help but notice that Harvey’s place hasn’t changed in the slightest. “I was just thinking.”

“That can’t be good,” Harvey teases, gesturing for Mike to sit down at the kitchen bench, “I ordered Chinese, by the way. Got this craving for kung pao chicken.”

Mike nods, “awesome. Did you get my—”

“I know what you like, Mike.”

 It’s torture for Mike, trying not to imagine that there’s a double-entendre to Harvey’s words.  He also can barely help the tingly feeling he gets upon hearing that even after time has passed, Harvey clearly still knows him well.

Harvey turns to him from across the kitchen island, places his hands on the surface. Mike’s eyes follow the lines of his arms, the soft, dark hair, blueish veins. His eyes flick back up to see the other watching him intently. Throwing a knowing smile in his direction, Harvey moves to open the refrigerator behind him.

“So, you decide on a place?” Harvey asks.

“Yeah. I managed to bring the price down a little, but it’s still pretty steep. Fifteen thousand a month,” repressing a shudder, Mike drags his hand down his face.

“That’s pennies,” is the reply he gets, causing him to roll his eyes.

“Well of course you think that, you’re you,” jokes Mike.

“Yes, I am. Wine? Scotch?” Harvey lists as he scans the scarce shelves of his fridge.

“Come on, beer.”

It’s surprisingly easy to fall back into this comfortable back and forth, Mike finds. He’s perfectly aware of what went down the last time he was anywhere near where he was currently sitting, but it wasn’t hanging over his head like he’d been worrying earlier on. For the past two years, his brain had done little but serve to remind him of exactly what it’d been like, having Harvey so close. That was the one questionable thing about having an eidetic memory—regardless of how much you wanted to _not_ have something on your mind, whether you like it or not, the image is there forever.

Harvey cracks one open for Mike, handing it to him before leaning back against the counter. For a second, he just watches Mike unabashedly, his stare making the younger of the two men feel insanely self-conscious. With a quiet cough, Mike stands and sips his drink, “movie?”

“Uh, sure. You pick.”

He rifles through Harvey’s extensive movie collection, fingers brushing against the spines of the DVDs. Mike can’t help but chuckle when he sees that Harvey still has videos, yet not a VCR in sight. He puts it down to sentimental value and lets his eyes skim along what they can actually watch.

“Ocean’s 11?” he speaks up, seeing both the remake and the original sitting side by side on the shelf.

Harvey nods from where he’s standing in the kitchen, “’60 or ’01? Be warned—I’ll judge you based solely on your answer to this question.”

“Did you seriously just ask me that question? Sinatra is a _God_ ,” Mike gushes. “But why do you even have the remake if you don’t like it?”

Harvey waves his hand, “I mentioned in front of Louis that I liked the movie, and he got me a limited-edition version of the remake for Secret Santa last year. I knew he’d tried, so I just didn’t mention it. I’d love to call him cheap, but we had a spending limit of twenty dollars. Thought we’d make it interesting.”

“I see. But still, that’s…not like you—in the slightest,” Mike mocks as Harvey comes to sit beside him on the sofa. He pretends not to notice the older man watching the side of his face and opts instead to just stare at the loading screen in front of him.

Bringing his legs up to curl beneath him in such an _un-Harvey_ manner that Mike has to look twice, Harvey nudges Mike’s leg with his foot, “well, maybe you rubbed off on me just a little bit.”

About ten minutes after they start the movie, their food arrives and it takes all of Mike’s will to not just dive in and eat everything in sight—not that Harvey would mind, given all the times he’d made quips about how Mike was way too skinny for his own good. They eat slowly, stuffing their faces in the breaks they get between making comments about whatever detail or line in the film, or joking about the acting, or each other.

 

Just over two hours later, by the end of the movie, they’re both a little tipsy. Mike’s got a buzz under his skin that he hasn’t felt for as long as he can remember; he can’t quite recall the last time he let himself go and actually got a little bit drunk.

Harvey looks over at him and reaches for the TV remote sitting between them, turning it off.

“Mike?”

“Hmm?”

“What happened with Rachel?”

It feels like getting dragged back to Soberville without a warning, and Mike fights to swallow the lump in his throat and ignore the knot of nerves growing in his stomach. He keeps his gaze lined up towards the TV set, not quite knowing how he’ll feel if he catches Harvey’s eye at the wrong time. Not sure whether to evade the truth or just come out and say it, Mike takes a deep breath and decides to just let what happens, happen.

“I told her,” he mumbles, “about that night. Me and you.”

Harvey’s stunned into silence, Mike learns, when he finally glances towards him and sees the shocked expression on his face. He understands, too, because at the time, when it’d come out, he’d wished for nothing more than to just cram the genie right back into the bottle and approach the separation differently. When it became clear that Harvey didn’t intend on speaking up, Mike continued, ready to explain it away.

“I wanted to file for divorce. It wasn’t working out. I played dumb but…I knew why,” he sighs, “it wasn’t working out because I didn’t want it to.”

“Did you try?” Harvey asks, no bite to his words.

“Of course I tried, Harvey. I tried every goddamn day to look at her and see her as the person I wanted to spend my life with, but I just couldn’t. It wasn’t right,” Mike admits.

“What…what happened when you told her? What did you even say?”

“I sat her down and told her I wanted a divorce. She was…upset, to say the least. Couldn’t understand where this was coming from—she just kept asking why,” he gulps, making a mental note that reminiscing on this particular part of their relationship didn’t seem to be getting any easier, “so I just came out and said it. She didn’t know what to say, stormed out. I woke up a couple of days later to a knock on my door, and I was served. She filed before me.”

“Wow.” Harvey gives him a sympathetic look, but it’s just met with a wry smile.

Mike just leans further back into the sofa and closes his eyes, taking a long swig from his warming beer. He feels the material shift as Harvey stands up and walks into the kitchen to fix himself another drink. When Mike glances over, he sees how Harvey’s standing with his back to him as he pours the scotch. The tension between them rises considerably, and Mike knows they’re both wondering how to address this. So, he just jumps feet first before he completely loses his nerve.

“I would’ve left her, you know,” he says boldly, “if you’d asked, I would’ve called it all off.”

Harvey goes still, puts the bottle of scotch down on the side and lets his head hang a little. Mike watches the shift in his frame as he takes a deep breath but doesn’t turn around.

“Mike—” he starts before he’s interrupted.

“You were always the one I wanted,” Mike keeps his eyes focused on a small pull in the couch’s thread, running his finger over the irregularity, “you know that.”

Harvey spins around quickly, face contorted into one of annoyance, “you didn’t take that night as a tip-off that it was the same for me? I thought I was pretty clear on that,” he huffs.

“Come on, Harvey,” argues Mike, looking up, “it didn’t feel like a beginning. Even before you showed me the door, I knew it was the end. It felt like you were saying goodbye.”

“It was a goodbye. I couldn’t have you in my life knowing how you felt and that you chose her anyway,” Harvey reasons, “it never would’ve been the same, and I didn’t want that.”

Mike stands up, jutting his hand out at Harvey accusingly, “so you thought you’d just completely cut me out of your life instead? You didn’t even call me when I left New York—”

“I needed to make a clean break—"

“What about what I needed?!” Mike raises his voice, shocking the both of them, “you were the most important person in my whole life—you meant more to me than anyone. Even Rachel. And suddenly you were gone, and I didn’t know how to get you back.”

Harvey strides across the room towards him, and Mike’s insides lurch when he gets in his face.

“I was gone? Me? You moved across the country and didn’t even think to let me know! I had to hear from Donna that the man that I loved was leaving for a new job with his new wife in a new city and I just—I didn’t know what to do,” Harvey’s quieter, more composed yet again.

Mike bristles at Harvey’s words, and realises that for all the things they’ve said to each other surrounding whatever feelings they have, neither of them have ever dropped the L-Bomb before. He’s never even entertained the idea that Harvey could really love him, never mind actually come out and say it. If Mike’s ever tried to internally categorise Harvey’s feelings for him in his head, it’s come under something like _emotionally stunted and confused when it comes to best pal._

He moves a little bit closer, barely any space left between them now, and all he can think about is, in hindsight, how easy it probably would’ve been to just call.

“I’m sorry for that. It’s just—” he squeezes his eyes shut, overwhelmed by the conversation, “telling you, hearing your voice, what you might’ve said—it felt like way too much. I kept trying to find the right thing to say to you and before I knew it, it was way too late. It would’ve been too weird. It would’ve looked like I was calling just to call.”

Harvey shakes his head softly, a look of confusion mixed with hurt in his eyes, “why couldn’t you? Just call? You have no idea how much I wanted to hear your voice.”

His words make Mike feel as though he’s been sucker-punched, and it physically hurts him to say, “it’s not like you called either.”

“You’re right, I didn’t, but how could I? I kept worrying in case Rachel picked up, or you’d changed your number, or you didn’t want to speak to me—”

“Harvey, why would you ever think that?” Mike asks, incredulous.

“You chose her, you left,” Harvey mutters, voice so quiet Mike has to strain to hear him.

Getting closer to the other man, his hands shake when he places them softly on Harvey’s chest. Seeing him so vulnerable always brought up mixed emotions; on the one hand, he’d always felt privileged to be permitted to see Harvey like this, but he also hated seeing him anything short of his usual confident self.

“I didn’t choose her, not really. Just didn’t think I could have this,” he swallows against the lump in his throat as he moved his hands down, pressing them against Harvey’s flat stomach experimentally. “Can I? Can I have this?”

Harvey’s chin presses against the top of his head before he moves ever so slightly, and Mike feels a pair of soft lips brushing against his hairline, “Mike—”

“Is this still what you want?” Mike asks, “is it still me?”

“I just got you back,” Harvey’s voice trembles for the first time since Mike’s known him, “don’t wanna lose you again.”

“Last time we didn’t do this, you lost me anyway,” Mike whispers, “so just—just have me like this.”

It’s then that Harvey finally looks down, his chocolate eyes meeting Mike’s, and Mike has a feeling he’s probably the only person on earth that’s ever been on the receiving end of that look. The idea warms him from his head to his toes.

Not wasting any time, Mike angles his head up just as much as he needs to, to plant his lips against Harvey’s. Instantly, he feels like kicking himself for walking out all that time ago. As Harvey’s hand moves to lock around his hip and his lips press more insistently, Mike wonders deliriously how he’d had this before, and then walked away from it without simply losing his mind.

The soft groan that leaves Harvey’s lips vibrates against his, and Mike wraps his arms tighter around the older man, pulling him in infinitely closer like he never wanted to let go. He feels hands squeezing his skin where they’ve sneakily crept under his shirt, and Harvey’s caressing the bare flesh of his hips. The warm sensation sends heat pooling into Mike’s stomach, and he presses his tongue against Harvey’s, tender and inviting. Their mouths dance together for what feels like an age, but Mike eventually just learns to let Harvey lead the way, just as he does in pretty much every other avenue of his life.

When their noses bump, Mike laughs softly, pulling away just enough to look at Harvey’s face comfortably for a second. He brings a hand up and runs his thumb along the indented lines across his forehead, the rounded moles above his eyebrows, brings it down to brush across his lips and around his chin; Mike’s suddenly hit with the realisation that Harvey is arguably the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen in his life.

“What you lookin’ at?” Harvey teases, leaning in a little just to taste Mike’s lips briefly.

“You.”

And Harvey’s grin is so worth being corny. This deep wanton feeling blossoms deep within Mike’s chest and his hands slip beneath Harvey’s t-shirt, fingers coursing through the dark hair just below his naval. His digits just sit there, lightly tormenting the skin above his waistband.

“Jesus, Mike,” Harvey mutters before pulling him back in by the back of the neck for a bruising kiss, teeth digging into Mike’s lower lip, demanding. Mike slips his hand into Harvey’s ridiculously expensive sweatpants, taunting as he just continues to brush against the thickening hair.

He lets Harvey kiss him until he can barely breathe, until the coiling in his stomach starts to become a little too obvious. Mike can’t remember the last time he actually got hard just from kissing; but instead of wishing it away like an embarrassed teenager, he pulls away from Harvey’s lips and moves his mouth down along the centre of his throat. His Adam’s apple bobs against Mike’s tongue, and he breathes out softly.

“Want you,” he continues to press his lips against Harvey’s skin, increasing the pressure of his hand on Harvey’s groin.

“How? How do you want me?”

“In every way. God, wanted you since the first time I ever saw you,” Mike pants.

In an instant, Harvey’s strong hands are circling below his butt; Mike’s being lifted up before he knows it, pulling his hand from his sweatpants and wrapping his legs around Harvey’s waist for purchase. Lips back against the other man’s, Mike sighs with pure want.

When Harvey manages to manoeuvre through to his bedroom, he sits down again on the edge of the bed, and Mike is seated securely in his lap. The older man pulls away, puts some distance between them before lifting Mike’s chin so he can look at him levelly. He places a hand against Harvey’s chest and can feel his heart bouncing rapidly against his palm. Mike takes some sort of solace in knowing he isn't the only one freaking out—in a good way, of course.

“You sure about this?” asks Harvey, his free hand rubbing against Mike’s jean-clad thigh comfortingly.

“What exactly is _this?_ What are your intentions with me?” Mike counters cheekily and raises his eyebrows.

“Well,” Harvey leans in and kisses Mike’s jaw, “first, I intend to undress you,” his lips migrate across the bone slowly as he speaks, “then, lay you down on my bed, kiss you, touch you, all that good stuff.”

Mike hums in mock approval. “Pretty standard—anything else?” he’s trying to keep his voice even, but he can’t help himself from whimpering softly as Harvey’s large hands move to grip his ass.

“This is where it gets interesting, actually,” Harvey sounds, palms moving tightly against Mike, “either gonna let you take my clothes off, or take them off for you, whatever works—then, I want you to tell me what you want me to do. Or what you want to do. That sound okay?”

“Sounds absolutely lush to me,” Mike pulls Harvey back up to kiss him, feels his hands against the buttons of his shirt, making good on his proposal to get him naked. Their mouths start to move more frantically, Mike spurred on when he shifts so that he can feel Harvey’s hardness pressing into him through their clothes. He spreads his legs across Harvey’s thighs, pulling a grunt from his lips when he presses their bodies closer together.

Mike’s shirt is off and before he knows it, thick, strong arms are wrapping around his naked torso, warming him up in all the places where his skin is newly exposed to the cold air. When Harvey leans down to nose against the younger’s neck delicately, Mike whines and moves his hips faster against him. He tries not to relish in the way he feels Harvey’s grip on him tighten.

In fact, he doesn’t really have time, because Harvey’s suddenly grabbing his hips, stopping his movements. When Mike looks down on him in question, flustered, he gets a chuckle in return.

“If I’m gonna fuck you, it probably won’t help to have me coming in my pants like a fifteen-year-old boy beforehand,” he muses, nuzzling against the column of Mike’s throat.

“You’re gonna fuck me?” Mike asks, stomach tied in knots.

 “I really, _really_ want to,” he hears Harvey inhale against him, breathing in the scent of his skin, “but only if that’s what you want.”

 Nodding softly, Mike kisses the crown of Harvey’s head, “it is, but—it’s just—I’ve never—”

 “That’s okay, don’t worry about that,” his words are definitely a comfort to Mike, who takes Harvey patting the bed beside him as his cue to move and lie down. He’s being crowded over in an instant, light from the overhead lamps blocked out by Harvey’s broad frame. They kiss again, soft, and Mike relishes in the shudder he earns when he gets his hands beneath the other man’s top again, brushing a little higher up his torso against his nipples.

Harvey moves down, lips against the centre of Mike’s chest when he goes to unbutton his jeans, just about straining to keep his eyes on Mike. He reaches in then, wasting no time and slipping under Mike’s boxers to grip his cock.  

The younger closes his eyes and pushes his hips up with a whine, all but a reflex against Harvey’s touch. For all of the times he’s imagined what this would be like (many, many times), nothing’s been like the real thing; he can feel the contours and lines of Harvey’s hand as he twists it around Mike’s leaking dick, thumb briefly swiping over the top through a bead of – kind of immature – precome.

“This okay?” he asks, raising himself up on his elbow and moving his hand in small motions.

Mike can’t do anything but nod desperately, opening his eyes to peer at Harvey where he’s bracketed over him. Seeing the look of pure adoration in his lover’s eyes makes Mike realise that, yep, this is it, he’s done for, completely ruined for everybody else. Panting out Harvey’s name, he lifts himself on his arms, brushing his mouth against Harvey’s ear, “wanna suck your cock.”

Harvey’s hand stills at that, gulp audible, “yeah?”

“Mm,” Mike noises, moving up further, pushing at Harvey’s shoulder and doing his best not to complain when his hand comes out of his jeans.

Almost immediately, Harvey shifts so that he’s sitting back against the headboard. Mike all but scrambles back into his lap, tugging at the bottom of Harvey’s shirt before pulling it up over his head. Both men take a moment to appreciate the feeling of being pressed against one another like this, shirtless together for the first time. Vaguely, Mike hears Harvey ask again if he’s okay, heart faltering at his attentiveness that deep down, Mike knew was there, but had never actually seen in the light of day before.

Harvey scoots down the bed a little, so he's more laying down than sitting. Mike moves down then, lips smoothing down the plain of Harvey’s stomach, still flat, but softened with age. Hands going for his waistband, Mike glances up once more, seeing Harvey’s eyes cloud over as he watches him intently, daring. He pulls on the material, sweatpants and boxers together, mouth close to watering as Harvey’s cock springs up, flushed red and firm. Mike grabs the base, not missing the hiss it pulls from the brunette. He’s actually done this a few times before, but not for years, and definitely not with Harvey, so Mike can’t help but feel just slightly out of his depth.

A hand comes to caress the back of his head then, and he learns forward, experimentally poking out his tongue and brushing it across the tip. Mike’s hand moves up and down the velvety skin a little, testing the waters and delighting in the way Harvey’s fingers wrap into his short hair a little tighter.  He takes this as silent encouragement, so he bows his head just a bit, finally taking the head of Harvey’s cock into his mouth and suckling gently, trying to get back into the motion of it.

Harvey’s bottom lip hangs a little, eyebrows pushing together as he watches Mike get acquainted with the most intimate part of him. When Mike’s lips slip down further, taking in about half of the flushed shaft at once, Harvey groans huskily, tipping his head back for a second before refocusing his view onto Mike. Not long after he starts sucking with more intent, letting his tongue flick around and properly taste Harvey, Mike finds that the muscle memory of it helps him along.

“Fuck,” sighs Harvey, “look so fucking pretty with my cock in your mouth.”

And Mike finds that he _loves_ the praise, Harvey’s words shooting right down to his twitching dick. The nape of his neck is caressed then, and he’s being pushed down lightly, tentatively, like Harvey’s seeing just how much he can take. His cock touches the back of Mike’s throat, and Harvey all but cries out at the feeling of being enveloped so deeply, so thoroughly. Mike whines, loves the sensation of his mouth being so full, and mentally thanks the heavens that his gag reflex is basically non-existent. Bringing a hand up to rest against the other man’s abdomen, Mike feels Harvey’s muscles writhing under his palm, so he sucks harder, concentrates on making Harvey go just a little bit crazy.

Just as Mike’s fingertips brush against Harvey’s balls, he feels them draw up tightly; he’s then being pulled up by his hair like a ragdoll and looking up at Harvey questioningly. He looks wrecked, and Mike tries not to gloat about the fact that _he did that_.

“You really—” Harvey pants, “you really expect me to believe you haven’t done that before?”

Mike smirks and climbing back up towards him, mouth at Harvey’s ear, “now, I never said _that_ , did I?”

Before he can fully register the movement, Mike’s being thrown onto his back, his jeans and boxers pulled down and tossed somewhere onto the floor. Harvey glooms over him, body pressed against Mike’s, and he’s just looking at him, watching his face.

“Kiss me, please,” Mike begs, hands on the sides of his lover’s neck, and he figures with anybody else he’d be embarrassed, but he knows that Harvey is just as keen as he is.

And Harvey does; he drops down so that his face is barely a centimetre from Mike’s and kisses him good and deep and dirty. They’re both so hard that it practically _hurts_ , so when Harvey reaches over to his bedside table, pulls out a bottle of lube and a condom, Mike almost sobs with relief. Kneeling back, Harvey places a hand on Mike’s thigh, pushes it slightly and Mike wantonly opens his legs wider. He watches as the older man slicks up two of his fingers, pouring a generous amount of lube onto them before leaning back between Mike’s legs, holding himself up on one arm. 

Fingers are swiftly pressed against his entrance, circling the ring of muscle and Mike gasps softly, heart skipping a few beats at once when Harvey kisses his forehead, mumbles, “hey, relax,” and pushes the tip of his finger into Mike. He tries really hard to stop tensing up, to just let Harvey work him open, but he can’t help but clench nervously when the rest of the digit is pressed into him.

“Gonna feel really good if you let it,” whispers Harvey, “I got you.”

Mike nods small, and nudges his face into Harvey’s neck, lips quivering as he manages to settle down just a little and feels another finger slip in next to the first. The stretch surpasses weird this time, breaching uncomfortable. He grits his teeth and tries to divert his attention; he focuses on Harvey—the smell of his skin, the feeling of his body against him, how he’d tasted—and learns pretty quickly to appreciate the stretch for what it is.

It’s when Harvey crooks his fingers slightly, twists his hand and his fingers go just that fraction deeper, brushing against new territory, that Mike’s hand flies down to grasp at his wrist with a sudden wail, white hot pleasure flashing through him, “oh, my god. Wha—?”

“There it is,” Harvey just about _sings_ under his breath, smirking. His fingers press against the spot once more, insistently, “you see what I mean?”

Mike grips him frantically, “yes. Fuck, yes,” and he barely even notices when Harvey nudges a third inside and scissors him open. Long fingers work him for a little longer, getting him used to the intrusion, until the burn eventually subsides, and then Mike just _wants_.

Whining, Mike moves to kiss Harvey and nibbles on his bottom lip, “please.”

“Please, what?” Harvey prompts.

“Please fuck me. Just wanna feel you.”

It seems to be all it takes, because Harvey’s repositioning himself then. He grabs the condom from where it’s been discarded on the bed and rips it open before rolling it onto himself. Mike watches as he makes another grab for the lube and takes the bottle from Harvey tentatively. Squeezing out a sizeable dollop onto his palm, Mike reaches for Harvey’s firm cock again, feels another thrum of please when it pulses in his hand. He coats his shaft liberally, pushes Harvey back so he’s sitting up and seats himself in his lap. They kiss tenderly for a second, Mike pulling back to see Harvey looking at him like he’s some kind of dream and he feels as though he could just cry.

Not wanting to ruin the moment, he reaches back and grabs Harvey’s length, positioning him at his entrance before wriggling down a little, feeling the head just slip inside of him. Their breathing hitches simultaneously, Harvey’s hands gripping Mike’s waist like a lifeline. Feeling a nose brush against his jawline, the younger plants his hands on strong, broad shoulders and slowly pushes down a little further, feels himself open up against the intrusion.

“You good?” Harvey asks, hands locked and secure around the soft curves of Mike’s body. Mike is pretty much certain that the other man can feel how he’s trembling just a little, not entirely sure what he’s doing, but approaching the situation with a _fake it ‘til you make it_ attitude.

The sensation is unlike anything he’s ever felt in his life; it’s strange, new, but definitely not bad. Harvey’s flush against him, pressed deep inside of him. He feels so full, and it’s almost as if he can feel him _everywhere,_ and despite the slight tingling burn around where their bodies are joined, Mike’s head spins when he realises that he’s never actually felt closer to the older man.

“Just—different,” he grunts, “weird. Good weird.”

Harvey laughs quietly, leans up to kiss Mike, soft and gentle. His hands move down slowly and caress Mike’s ass, palms exploring the plains of his smooth skin before his fingers dig into the flesh. Shifting, Harvey angles his hips to press up towards Mike, and the blonde whimpers as he feels Harvey go impossibly deeper.

Mike nudges his knees harder into the mattress then, and starts to move in Harvey’s lap a little. He tips his head back with a whine as the crown of his cut cock just about brushes his prostate, “holy fuck.”

“That feel good?” he hears Harvey prompt and feels his lips meet his neck, long fingers etching towards where his dick breaches Mike’s entrance, “God, you feel incredible. So fuckin' tight.”

Harvey grips him even harder, strong hands bouncing Mike’s lithe body up and down onto his slick cock. The way he can feel his insides quivering around Harvey’s sharp, puncturing thrusts practically makes Mike see stars. He’s groaning Harvey’s name like a fucking mantra as he presses up into him, firm and strong but so attentive at the same time.

They eventually set an absolutely _delectable_ rhythm, Mike riding Harvey breathlessly whilst the older man pounds into him from beneath. Moving his palms up Mike’s sides, Harvey pushes his mouth against his ear, panting heavily.

“Wanted this for so long,” he whispers, “just want you to be mine.”

“I am yours,” Mike insists, “always have been. Never stopped loving you—not for a second.”

Harvey inhales sharply, mouth wet against Mike’s lobe when he sucks it between his lips, nipping lightly at the skin. Goosebumps erupt across his skin; the feeling of Harvey’s tongue against his flesh, and his hips setting a bruising pace when he holds Mike’s body still in his lap suddenly gets way too much to handle all at once. Searing heat starts to pool in his gut and his eyes actually line with tears when Harvey’s cock bumps against that bundle of nerves inside of him again.

“Fuck, think I’m gonna come,” Mike’s mouth falls open, shaping into a lax ‘o’.

Harvey nestles his face into his neck, doesn’t stop thrusting up into him and reaches for his neglected dick. He grips the bottom of the shaft firmly, and Mike tries to move; he tries to buck into the tight ring of fingers but is held down in the other’s lap, unable to move whilst Harvey groans against his skin, soaked with perspiration, and grunts Mike’s name under his breath as he rams his cock up into the gripping heat a last time. Then, Harvey’s coming, body all but wracked with a loud, blissed sob. And – even though he doesn’t know if it’s possible – Mike swears he can feel his cock twitching inside him.

He barely has to come all the way back down to earth before he’s jerking his hand up and down Mike’s length, squeezing and twisting around the velvety flesh as he whispers an array of sweet and downright dirty nothings into his ear. Mike’s following not soon after—spilling between their bodies and all over Harvey’s hand with a deep, guttural moan.

For a second, they don’t move, just sit and breathe each other in a little while longer. Harvey wipes his soiled hand somewhere on the sheets and brings it to Mike’s sweat-drenched back, fluttering soft kisses across his neck and shoulders unsparingly. Mike careens towards the soft touches, wrapping his own arms around Harvey’s wide torso. He winces as he feels Harvey’s softening dick start to slip out of him, and moves to climb out of his lap.

Harvey stands on wobbly legs when Mike’s back hits the bed, and disposes of the condom before pottering into his en-suite. Eyes squinting as the sudden light from the bathroom spills into the room, Mike turns his head towards the windows beside Harvey’s bed, watches the world go by for a moment. He finds himself so engrossed in staring out at the city that never sleeps that he doesn’t even realise Harvey’s come back into the room until he feels something wet between his legs.

Peering down, he sees a washcloth in Harvey’s hand, feels it brushing against his swollen entrance where his leg’s being lifted for better access. Harvey reaches up to wipe Mike’s stomach clean and Mike wraps his fingers around the other man’s wrist, pulling his attention up to his face.

“Hey,” he smiles.

Harvey returns it sweetly, “hey yourself.”

Mike stretches back like a cat, pulling his grip away from Harvey to extend his hands above his head. He just about purrs when he feels his muscles crack and relax with the movement. He kicks the duvet off, for some reason hyper-aware of the now-drying come on it somewhere. He drags Harvey down towards him, somewhat ungracefully, so that their bodies are touching all over.

“That was—” Mike thinks, “interesting.”

“Interesting? I almost put my back out fucking you and your descriptive is _interesting?_ ”

Mike laughs heartily, _honestly_ , head tipping back onto the pillow, “it’s really not my fault you’re old.”

Harvey shakes his head in disapproval, like he’s actually disappointed in Mike’s lack of creativity, “you seriously need some new material. Really. It’s actually _stale_ now.” He burrows his head into the juncture between Mike’s neck and shoulder, and Mike can feel the smirk gracing his lips.

“Oh please, you love me.”

Harvey pulls back, looks him in the face and smiles small, smoothing his thumb over Mike's cheek.

“You know what? Yeah—I really do.”

And with that outright admission, Mike's just gone. It dawns on him, the amount of time he and Harvey had wasted dancing around each other like stupid teenagers. All the years they could've had if it wasn't for their heads being so far up their asses that they might as well have been legally blind.

"Always known you were a sap," he teases, bringing up a hand to drag it through Harvey's hair softly when the elder presses his face into Mike's neck.

He huffs a laugh against Mike's skin, mumbling, "you tell anyone, you're as good as dead." 

Even with Harvey's adorable empty threats and his strong hand brushing against Mike's side, his heart swells impossibly again when he notices the telltale signs of Harvey smiling against his skin. 

He knows then—regardless of how long he pretended that he wasn't deliriously in love with his best friend—that the only thing left to be done is make the most of all the years they still have together. Mike figures using his words is a good way to start.

"I love you."

Harvey's still smiling when he mutters, "sap."

**Author's Note:**

> soooo that's it! thank you so much to anyone who's taken the time to read either this or part 1 (heartlines), left any comments or left kudos. it really means more than you know and i appreciate it endlessly. <3


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